


Swan Brother

by tigriswolf



Series: dark fairy tales [33]
Category: De vilde Svaner | The Wild Swans - Hans Christian Andersen, Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms
Genre: Animal Transformation, Gen, Poetry, Protective Siblings, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: The fairy tale Swan Brothers / Wild Swans told from the pov of one of the brothers.





	Swan Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Written August 23 - 24, 2017
> 
> For a prompt to tell a fairy tale from a new/different pov.

I remember before—

                We chased each other,

                we laughed,

                we played where we liked

                                while the nurse shouted for us to be

                                calm, to be

                                steady, to be

                                princes.

                We knew our place, and only

                the king and queen could command us.

                We knew our place, then.

 

I remember—

                Cracking, tearing, screaming.

                Suddenly I was shorter,

                suddenly I had no hands,

                suddenly I stared up and up,

                and my father’s wife smiled down,

                lips red as the blood my mother coughed

                onto satin sheets as she died,

                and she said,

                                _Fly,_

_little princes,_

_or for dinner I’ll have roast swan._

 

                Our sister’s cries followed us into the sky.

 

                We learned to speak to each other.

                We used our bills to write with sticks.

                We discovered what we could eat, relearned to drink,

                avoided hunters, both human and animal,

                and we lived.

                We lived,

                no longer princes.

                We flew.

 

                She found us, our sweet little sister.

                She found us but did not speak.

                I brought her a stick and she scratched out

                her painful, lengthy quest.

                Oh, little sister.

                We circled her and offered what comfort we could.

 

I remember—

                We guarded her as she worked.

                We learned to speak with her, and treasured

                each silent laugh, each smile.

                She grew, our sister, from girl to woman,

                scarring her hands, toughening her skin,

                never eating, never sleeping enough.

 

                I wanted to tell her that we weren’t worth it,

                us brash no-longer-princes. 

                We had done nothing to earn such a stalwart sister.

                And she harvested,

                and she sewed,

                and the seasons passed.

 

                We were almost too late.

                We dove from the sky, shrieking a warning,

                and the soldiers scattered beneath us.

                Despite the rope around her,

                our little sister threw the shirts into the air

                and we lunged into them, one by one.

 

                Through her relieved laughter,

                my sister wept.

                I told her,

                                _It’ll be fine, little one, dearest._

_It’ll be fine._

 

Before—

                The years are hazy

                when I was young,

                when I was a swan.

                My older brothers have returned to our home

                or gone out into the world, seeking adventure.

                I have had enough to last a lifetime.

                My wing is a reminder I can never escape.

                I live here in my sister’s court,

                telling tales to amuse courtiers, to amuse children,

                to amuse servants as they work,

                to make my sister laugh, when I can.    

 

I remember before—

                                I miss being a

                swan

                                far more than I miss being a

                prince.

 


End file.
